


forget-me-not

by iwillwalk500miles



Category: RWBY
Genre: Alternate Universe, Curses, F/F, Flowers, Grief/Mourning, Hopeful Ending, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Memory Loss, Memory Magic, Ruby Rose (RWBY) Needs a Hug, i'm going to level with you here this is just me lamenting and drowning in my own self-pity, look this is very sad and awful but i popped off and that's that, some horror, suicide mention but it's only a couple lines, very little plot but a whole lot of feelings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-12 00:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29126337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwillwalk500miles/pseuds/iwillwalk500miles
Summary: She tried forcing herself to remember sometimes.It never went very well, her head always reduced to a series of harsh aches, making Ruby feel like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of her brain—mashing and mashing until all that was left was a weird runny stew. It never failed to leave her exhausted, and even though every time she tried she made sure she was alone Snow always seemed to stumble upon her with an unreadable expression on her face.(Though maybe that was just because Ruby couldn’t remember the expression on her face. Semantics)Or;“I’m fine.” She said finally. “Don’t... Don’t worry.”It almost felt like the wrong thing to say, like it was too comfortable and too familiar for where she was—who she was with. It almost felt like Ruby was toeing the line of a boundary she couldn’t see, and she was afraid that when she could finally know what it was it would be because she’d crashed into it so violently that she’d been sent sprawling to the ground.
Relationships: Ruby Rose/Weiss Schnee
Comments: 20
Kudos: 51





	forget-me-not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this will probs be like 2-3 chapters long

Her existence started like this: something soft brushing against her face, carefully brushing the hair out of her closed eyes, the soft crackle of a fire slowly replacing the ringing in her ears, a light beginning to bleed in the edges of her vision—steadily replacing the comfort of darkness. It is a softer beginning than most get, but she doesn’t know that, can’t tell—all she feels is the steady clamp of panic on her throat, clinging to her lungs as she’s dragged tooth and nail to the light.

Her existence started long before she opened her eyes to find a pair of eyes that she did not recognize.

“Hello.” Ruby murmured, the greeting coming out of her mouth like a reflex. (A reflex of _what_ exactly she didn’t know yet.) “Were you touching my hair?”

“It was in your face.” The person remarked, leaning away and instead moving to fiddle with something on the nightstand beside her. “Annoying.”

Ruby watched them move, spellbound by the sight of long fingers sliding against pastel flowers. Something inside of her tightened at the sight of the dancing flowers, the bright yellowed center and the pale colors bewitched her far easier than the person who played with them. 

It was like she... liked them— _knew them, recognized them_ —she shook the thoughts of the flowers out of her head, and turned to look back at the person she’d woken to.

She could make out their hands and eyes, but had a hard time seeing anything else. Moving her gaze away from them in confused frustration, she instead examined the room around her. All the furniture was handsome and dark, contrasting greatly to the great white walls and tile—the only spot of any color other than light and dark was the soft pale blue carpet thrown haphazardly in the center of the room.

Ruby rubbed on her face, pushing the hair there back, only to remove her hand and find that the shock of hair rocking back into place. 

“Oh.” She said, kind of understanding how that might be annoying. “My bad.”

She faced the person once more, rolling her head to the side and squinting up at them. Though she’d always had perfect vision, she could not make out the features of them, everything blurred over—a perfect shield to cover their face with. (Except for their eyes, pale blue, staring down at Ruby in a way she didn’t quite understand.)

“You could hardly be blamed for the state of you.” The person said finally, averting their gaze. They stood, moving away from Ruby and toward the handsome wooden desk at the opposite end of the room. They reached out, grasping a jar filled with what could have been honey, only she was sure that honey wasn’t quite as gold. “How did you get here?”

“I... I don’t know.” Ruby said, reaching up to rub at her forehead and trying not to panic. She couldn’t remember a thing before this, like her existence had started from the moment she met the stranger’s eyes. Could it be that this was the start of her? That didn’t feel right, but then again _nothing_ seemed to feel right. 

She forced herself to sit up, slowly bracing her arms on the bed as she struggled upward. The person watched her, fidgeting, the distinct feeling of awkwardness seeming to radiate from them.

Ruby wondered if the person wanted to help her out somehow.

“Where is here exactly?” She asked them, swaying a little bit until she leaned her shoulder into the wall. It was a nice wall, cool and smooth, she found herself nearly melting into it.

“You remember nothing?” The person asked, their tone giving away the urgency they felt.

“Er.” Ruby managed to shoot them a bewildered look. “I only know that I woke up, and that you were touching my hair.”

“Another one, of course.” The words came out in a disappointed grumble, louder than she was sure they meant her to hear.

Ruby felt something inside of her prickle in excitement, maybe she’d have other people to talk to—maybe they’d know who she was. (And maybe she’d actually be able to _see_ them.) “Are there more people here?”

“No.” The person said, none too kindly. Their voice, melodic and soft at first, had transformed into something a great deal harsher and flatter. They were clearly disappointed, and had a hard time not showing it. “You are the first visitor I’ve had in... quite some time.”

Ruby could only stare, trying and failing to see through the smudge that was their face. Finally she turned away, her head aching with the strain of her eyes as they fluttered closed. She did not know where she was, she did not know what was happening, and worst of all she did not know _who_ she was. Any remnant of her being lay in the name she thought was hers, and in the lingering sentiment that had surged through her from the sight of flowers on the bedside table.

“That sounds scary and lonely.” Ruby decided, rubbing at her eyes tiredly. “Though I think mostly lonely.”

“It could be.” The person agreed easily enough, voice light in a way that only sounded deceitful. “But every visitor serves a purpose, I just thought I was done needing them.”

There was a frustration there that Ruby was afraid to pick up on. This person who she could not picture, could not see, who knew _what_ exactly they were, who knew if they could be trustworthy? (Would they hurt her for saying the wrong thing? Ruby for the life of her couldn’t come up with an answer.) “Do... do you serve a purpose?”

“Mhmm.” The person hummed, the sound of them very even and smooth. “Very complicated, I doubt your feeble mind can handle it in this state.”

“My mind isn’t feeble!” Ruby protested, despite the fact that a steady throbbing was beginning to grow in her temples. Flickers of something graced the edges of her imagination, but the images were unclear. The more she tried to see them the harder it got, slipping from her hands like wisps. “I was smart! I was really smart—”

“Lay down.” They spoke with sharpness, voice cutting into Ruby’s ears like a knife. They pressed a hand to her shoulder, her chest—pushing her down as Ruby clutched desperately at her head in pain. “I haven’t done this in a while, so you’ll have to excuse any... rough handling.”

She could not imagine how it could get any worse. “ _What are you_ —”

Cold fingers pressed into her temple, and before Ruby lost consciousness she could have sworn she’d seen them begin to glow.

* * *

The second time she awoke, the person was not in the room. Ruby groaned a little bit, groggily forcing herself into a sitting position, pushing a soft blanket away from her upper body. She looked around the room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The fire had gone out.

Ruby furrowed her brows, reaching up to rub at her forehead, trying and failing to make sense of where she was. All she could remember was that conversation, the cryptic and almost cold words of that... person. What were they? She couldn’t picture them _at all_ —every time she tried the image clouded right up, a haze blurring everything except the chill of light blue eyes.

She felt weird.

Like there was something on the tip of her tongue, a word or a name or _something_ that was important desperately seeking to make itself known to the world around her. It refused to occur to her, no matter how hard she wracked her brain, stumbling over the almost emptiness that was who and what she was.

Her name was Ruby, she knew that, she knew that, she _knew_ that—

(She wondered what she looked like.)

Ruby glanced down at her hands, calloused and rough, and realized that she did not know how they got to look that way. She squinted, pressing her thumb into the back of her right hand, pushing right where a thin scar was. 

The sounds of a door creaking open snapped her out of her thoughts.

She looked up to see a figure lingering in the doorway. Ruby found that once more she could not find an image of them in her mind, every time she tried to picture this person, it was like trying to hold water in her hands—no matter how hard she tried it kept slipping between her fingers. “You’re awake.” They said, and Ruby noticed some relief in their voice. “You slept in long enough.”

“Uh, sorry.” Ruby mumbled softly, looking at the person and trying very hard not to stare. “I can’t... I can’t see your face? I mean I can, but it doesn’t _stick_ —you have very pretty hair but—” The image slipped from her mind, and Ruby stumbled over her words. “I—I don’t know what I just said.”

“Not unusual.” The person walked further into the room, pulling the chair from the desk to Ruby’s bedside and sitting down. Ruby imagined that maybe the look on their face was soft, kind—even though she severely doubted it. “You may remember nothing of me, only that I was here, only that I was something that touched and moved things.”

“I can see your eyes.” Ruby protested, “I can remember them just fine, they’re blue—pale, pretty, kind of pained.”

A silence settled over them both, and if Ruby focused hard enough she could see the look of naked surprise on their face—right before it faded, of course. The image in her mind or the actual expression she couldn’t really be sure. “That...” They spoke hesitantly, and Ruby imagined that maybe their brows were furrowed—even though they probably weren’t. “That will fade.”

“It hasn’t yet—your eyes are still blue.” Ruby said, and finally looked away from them. The person was beginning to give her headache. “Pale, pretty, pained.”

“Odd.” They noted with a soft hum, and said nothing else.

She took a deep shuddering sigh, wrapping her arms tightly around herself and keeping her eyes trained to the blanket thrown over her legs. It was one of the most colorful things in the room, a red so deep Ruby wanted to curl into it and never leave. “If you tell me your name, do you think that I’ll forget it?”

“Yes.”

“Can you tell me anyway?”

The person said something that Ruby could not make out.

She tried anyway.

“W-w-we—” It was hard to say it altogether, so Ruby was trying to sound it out one letter at a time. She was not doing very well.

The person let out something that sounded a mix between a sigh and a scoff. Indignant, Ruby only continued to try—until they finally reached up and flicked her between her brows. “That’s enough.” They said semi-sternly. “I’d rather you not keel over again.”

Well, now Ruby couldn’t _not_ keep trying. “Wei—” A sharp stab of pain struck her skull, and she let out a moan of agony. She gripped at her forehead desperately, “ _Ow_!”

“If it makes you feel better, you got closer than most.” They said through a huff, crossing their arms of their chest.

“It doesn’t.” Ruby said, rubbing at her eyes. “I’m confused because I can’t seem to... picture you, I guess? And it’s frustrating, because this seems like something that should be simple, but somehow it’s not.”

“Many things here will be that way.” The person murmured softly. “I wish to ease your pain, but there is very little I can do.”

“It’s alright.” Ruby said, even though it wasn’t. “Do you want to know my name?” She hoped that they did, it was the only thing that she knew about herself and she was eager to share it with someone who might remember when she forgets.

For a horrible moment, it looked as though they might refuse, might tell Ruby not to bother; but then they were bowing their head a little, lips curved in a smile that seemed more sad than anything Ruby had ever seen before. (And it actually might have been—she had no way of knowing for sure.)

“I’d love to.” Their voice was soft, comforting, and Ruby thought it suited them much more than the resolved unhappiness it had been before.

“My name is Ruby.” She said, and another name was on the tip of her tongue but she couldn’t form the strength to say it.

“I wish I could say it’s nice to meet you, Ruby.” The person almost sounded sincere, but their words made it so that it was quite clear they did not want her there.

She looked down at her hands. She didn’t know what she’d do if the first person (and judging from the conversation before the _only_ person around) was unhappy by her existence. “It’s not nice?” She asked tentatively, looking up to meet their gaze. “I think after all this time it’d be nice.”

“It’s bittersweet.” They said with a sigh, their stiff posture slouching just a little bit. “I like the company, but...”

“But what?” Ruby pressed anxiously.

“You do not know who you are, and that is because you are here—with me.” The person said, their voice the epitome of seriousness. They paused, watching the way that Ruby stared, her eyes wide, and turned their head so they didn’t have to look at her. “And if you do not find a way out of my limbo, you will _never_ _know_ —at least not the entirety of it.”

“That’s...” Her stomach churned. She felt like she was floating for a moment, her body not tethered in reality as she tried to process what she’d been told. That didn’t make sense. The explanation sounded unreal, fictional—sounded like something found in a story or fairytale. This didn’t happen to normal people, right? And Ruby... wasn’t she normal? Hadn’t she been normal? (She didn’t know.) “I think I’m going to be sick.”

The person looked at her sympathetically, but made no move to soothe her. “There was no way to break the news gently.”

Ruby groaned, burying her face into her hands and trying to calm down. She couldn’t pretend like what this person was saying wasn’t possible, the fact was that the only thing she could successfully tie to herself was her name and _maybe_ a weird little feeling when she saw flowers. Finally she managed to summon the strength to look tiredly up at the person. “You could have given me a minute to breathe.”

“You have been breathing many minutes.” They said matter-of-factly

“That’s fair but also no it’s not.” Ruby drew her knees to her chest, finally pushing the blanket entirely off of her body. She was wearing an odd gown, made of itchy cotton and patterned with little blue dots covering the entirety of the fabric. She tugged at it uncomfortably, yelping when it snapped open over her shoulder and hastily shoving the buttons back together until it clicked. “What is this?”

“How am I supposed to know?” The person said, quirking an unimpressed brow. “You’re the one who showed up in it.”

“Only this?” Ruby asked, feeling utterly confused but happily noticing that at least she was wearing some cotton shorts. She pinched them between her fingers, eyes going wide. "Oh, these are soft."

“And a sweater.” The person said, ignoring the last part. “But it landed in the mud—it’s drying right now.”

“You washed it?”

“Yes.” They said simply. “My last visitor was dressed quite differently than you, you know, but he doodled enough pictures for me to recognize it was clothing. He seemed fond of them."

“He remembered enough to show you all that?” A surge of hope bubbled in her chest. “That seems like a lot to remember.”

The person stared, their eyes turning conflicted. “Yes.” They said finally. “He stayed long enough to remember that—too long, actually, the poor fool.”

Dread very quickly replaced any hope she had felt. “Oh.” She said hollowly. “That’s... not fun.”

“It certainly wasn’t.” They agreed with a snort. “But worry not, the signs will appear soon, and then you can be on your merry way.”

“Uh, what?”

“You’ll figure it out.” They brush off Ruby’s question easily, “No one fails in that respect, at least.”

Ruby somehow felt that she’d be the first to do exactly that. She stared at the person for a long time, trying to commit the little she could see into her memory and failing miserably. She needed to tie this person to something, to learn a bit about them so that she didn’t feel any more alone than she already felt. “How should I... how should I think about you? If you don’t have a name, if you can’t stay in my head long enough before you fade?”

“There is nothing to refer to.” The person said simply. “I am nothing to your mind, and I will continue to be nothing—that will not change.”

“For a cloud with eyes you’re pretty stubborn.” Ruby frowned. “You could at least tell me a little about yourself, I mean I might remember—”

They cut her off swiftly. “You can see me as you like, it’s not as though you will remember any specifics I give you.”

“Uhhh... any? Are you sure?” The words had sent her horribly off balance. “I don’t want to call you the wrong thing.”

“How courteous of you.” They noted dryly. “Are names and terms so important to you?”

“How am I supposed to know?” Ruby pointed out with a weak laugh.

“A fair point.” They bowed their head in acknowledgement, face scrunched in thought. “Regardless, I was... I took the form of a woman, before. I... er. I liked the cold?”

It became clear very quickly that the person (woman, actually) had not talked about herself in quite some time. 

“Is that who you are?” Ruby asked, her voice soft.

The person shrugged, a little helplessly. “I don’t know—and the things I do know I do not wish to tell you, so... that is all.”

“I don’t know all the reasons why this is important to me.” She said. Sure, gaining some sort of knowledge about the woman would probably help her out a little bit, but she felt like there was more to it than that. “Maybe I’m doing too much.”

“I couldn’t say if you were.” The woman said gently. A moment of silence passed before she spoke again. “You are tired.”

She _was_ tired. “I just woke up.”

“I don’t know what you mean by that.” She said. “It could be an excuse, a way of saying your brain has not settled into your skull—or it could be a disagreement, you just woke up; ergo you are not tired.”

“I—what?” Ruby blinked at her deliriously.

“It is not the second one.” The person decided somberly. “You seem much too slow for it to be anything but the first.”

“Did you just call me dumb?” Ruby asked through a surprised laugh. She didn’t know whether or not the stranger in front of her was deliberately being this stiff or if she was cracking a joke, but either way a sense of relief settled over her spirit.

“That remains to be seen.” She replied, rising to her feet. “It has been some time, I imagine that you’re hungry.”

“I’m fine.” On cue, her stomach growled. “Ignore that.”

“I will not.” The person seemed pleasantly surprised. Ruby remembered that she hadn’t had company in a while, maybe she wanted to share a meal with someone other than herself. “I don’t have much in terms of food, only bread and cheese, will that suffice?”

Her cheeks burned. “I’m not hungry—”

“Wonderful! I’ll get it right away.”

Ruby stared after her, feeling all too helpless in that moment. All of this felt like some sort of bizarre dream, as though she might wake up any second now, with someone waiting for her. She frowned deeply, drawing her knees to her chest and taking a deep breath. She didn’t know anything, she couldn’t picture a life before any of this.

She had to have had a life before this right? Before this... this absolute _emptiness_ that she felt inside of her. Her stomach churned uncomfortably, from hunger or from her thoughts she couldn’t really tell. She felt hollow, as though her insides had been scraped out of her with a rusty spoon, leaving her raw and aching. Her lungs felt as though in any moment they might collapse on the weight of themselves, her ribs aching alongside them.

Ruby was in pain.

Logically she knew that she must have had a life before this, it wasn't as though she'd forgotten _everything_ —she still remembered simple things, like how to speak and the action of moving, she remembered what water felt like, what the furniture in the room was—she _knew_ things. She just... she just didn't know a single thing about herself, nothing except for the name she'd managed to grasp desperately on to.

(And even that felt almost fleeting, like if for a single moment she wasn't diligent enough she'd lose it just like she'd lost everything else.)

A deep frown marred her face, the expression not coming to her easily, and though she heard the sounds of approaching footsteps she couldn't muster up the energy to react.

“You are not well.” A voice said from the doorway, the sound of it... soft, almost—like the person had taken a moment to dull the sword in her mouth. When Ruby looked up, all she could focus on was pale hands holding a plate of a loaf of freshly baked bread and cheese such a violent shade of orange it almost hurt her eyes. Her gaze moved further upward to the eyes, blue and—

Ah.

It seemed only natural that this person had very beautiful eyes.

How easy it was to notice them! How even easier it became as the person began to walk closer, gracefully setting down the tray on the bedside table all without breaking eye-contact. And it was such a nice shade too, with specks of beautiful brightness that slowly became a darker blue—it was like how Ruby remembered the concept of the ocean, light water at the top and dark at the bottom. But this person's eyes seemed far too... different to be a part of something like the ocean—they were paler than that, like ice or the sky.

They seemed too _other_ to belong to anything that Ruby could remember about human beings, and for a fleeting moment she thought to ask if the person was one.

“I’m fine.” The words come out easily, the lie slipping from her mouth as though it was meant to. (And she didn't know it yet, but those words had been pressed into her lips and tongue long before this moment.) “Is that fresh?”

Eyes linger on her own suspiciously, and Ruby has to fight the urge to shiver and look away. “Yes.” The person—(Blue? She feels like a Blue. Maybe she should come up with some nicknames)—reached out, pressing a hand (cold) to her forehead. “You’re warm.”

“Thanks?”

Blue (maybe it would stick) didn’t say anything for a moment, eyes watching the area where her fingers pressed against Ruby’s skin. “I don’t quite know.” She began. “If that is a good thing.”

Ruby remembered that Blue (honestly, she felt like she should get a little more creative) hadn’t had much in terms of visitors in ‘ _quite some time.’_ Something in her chest twisted, and she absentmindedly scratched at the skin there. “I’m fine.” She said finally. “Don’t... Don’t worry.”

It almost felt like the wrong thing to say, like it was too comfortable and too familiar for where she was—who she was with. It almost felt like Ruby was toeing the line of a boundary she couldn’t see, and she was afraid that when she could finally know what it was it would be because she’d crashed into it so violently that she’d been sent sprawling to the ground.

* * *

Ruby watched the woman run her fingers along the walls warily. As soon as she’d been able to get up she’d been taken on a tour, being shown the various rooms of the house that they were in. It was old and handsome, tailored in the way Ruby thought was strange—though she didn’t know why she felt that way. Maybe it was the way color so vividly contrasted against each other, so bright or so dark that Ruby found if she stared too long spots would appear in her vision.

Other than that, the house was actually kind of nice. It was warm, and though many of the rooms that were unused were decorated to be sparse and impersonal, the rooms that were most obviously lived in were comfortable. Walking into the small library was a relief in the make of a room, and Ruby couldn't help but stare at everything a little too long. A semi-worn couch and recliner sat happily in the center of the room, surrounded by bookshelves pushed against the walls.

As amazing as it had felt to be in the presence of something so warm, the library did not compare one bit to the garden.

It felt sort of odd to be outside at first. The stranger (Ruby was thinking of calling her something to do with what she could make out of her—like cloud, or snow, or something similar) had told her that she was effectively trapped there, and for some reason that meant Ruby felt she wasn’t going to be able to outside.

Still, the open sky was a sight to see, the fresh air relieving some of the pressure on her chest. 

Snow (this nickname actually _sounded_ like a nickname so she’d go with it) didn't react to the sound of relief Ruby had made, only quietly beckoning her forward as she led her across the property.

Ruby looked around in open wonder as they walked the cobblestone path, ignoring the chill that bit into her toes as her bare feet slapped against it. Snow hadn’t given her shoes, and Ruby hadn’t asked—besides, it wasn't as though she _needed_ them. If it got to be too much, she'd just ask to go back inside or something, no use in annoying her host and literally the only other person around.

She was led to a rather large area, great marble walls covered in flowers boxing it in like some sort of cage. Despite its size, it felt restricting somehow—as though the vines that followed the flowers upward might reach out and grasp at them both, holding them down and squeezing.

Regardless, Ruby felt that it was the best place she had seen so far. There were so many _colors_ in what she quickly realized was a beautiful garden, all of them leading back to plants that she was delighted to realize that she knew the name of (or at least recognized.) It seemed impossible to know so much about the things around her—the marigolds and the roses and the poppies—but before she could dwell on them for much longer Snow began to speak.

“This is the garden.” Snow said, sounding for the first time genuinely relaxed. “I can’t go much anywhere else but there, the house, and some of the surrounding yard.”

Ruby followed after her dutifully, pausing as she did and just enjoying the feel of the wind in her hair. “Is there like a wall or something stopping you?”

“Yes, sort of. Going to the edge isn’t something I do often, but when I want to go cloud watching it’s the best spot—one peak over and it’s pure sky, above and below." She gestured sort of lazily, before adding something with false ease. "Before you ask, you can’t jump off, you’ll just smack your head against the border.”

Ruby blinked at her, trying to come up with a coherent response and only just managing not to fail. “I wasn’t really planning on jumping.”

“Well, you can’t be too cautious. More than one person has tried it.” Snow said, as though it was only a simple fact—as though she wasn’t talking about people attempting to kill themselves. They couldn’t, and perhaps Snow knew that before they had tried, but Ruby couldn’t help but feel a stirring of discomfort in her stomach.

She wondered how Snow had learned, if one of her past ‘guests’ had attempted it first or—

“Oh.” Ruby murmured, turning away to look at the floor beneath her. She pressed the heel of her foot into a nearby leaf, feeling only more discomfort when it didn't let out the tell-tale crunch of a good one. “That’s sort of awful.”

“More than ‘sort of.’” Snow agreed after a moment, and though Ruby had not managed the will to face her she could feel her gaze burning into the side of her head.

“Yeah.” She said, looking back up and trying not to squirm. It was definitely super weird to look at a person and only see their eyes, Ruby wondered if she would ever get used to it. “I guess I can understand why, though.”

There was a brief moment where Snow said nothing, only staring at her warily. “You can?” 

“I don’t know who I am either.” Ruby explained hastily, she didn’t want Snow to think she’d try (and probably fail) to throw herself off the edge. “If... If I was any less of whatever this place took from me, I don’t think I’d be able to take it.”

Another moment of silence passed, and nerves clamped tightly down on her throat.

She didn't understand _why_ exactly she was so nervous, was it maybe because she was afraid she'd be judged? Ruby felt like there had to be more to it than that, but for the life of her she couldn't get a good grapple on the thundering inside of her heart and mind.

“I understand." Snow said, and with two words the hands that had wrapped around Ruby's neck crumbled to dust.

And it was in that moment that Ruby realized just why this person, this stranger, this _Snow_ —mattered to her so much. If the other woman was agreeable to it, if she was willing to listen to her and talk back in return, Ruby would not be alone in re-learning herself. She and Snow would learn just exactly who she was at the same time, and wasn't it a relief not to have to do it all alone?

(But, this was only if Snow actually wanted that, if she was willing to do it with Ruby after doing it with countless others—all who must have been far more interesting than her.)

Ruby almost missed what she said next.

"There have been times where I want to leave here as well, but that’s different than you lot, isn’t it?” She didn’t wait for Ruby to answer her, crossing her arms over her chest and humming as though she was in deep thought. “I don’t have much to my name anymore, Ruby—actually I have less than that—but as long as you remain here I don’t see the issue in sharing all that I have with you.”

She was speechless for a moment, staring with wide eyes as she tried to wrap her head around what had been said—what had been practically _sworn_ to her. She tried to examine her, to see what she could make out through the fog—and though Ruby couldn’t really... _see_ her, she still got the vague impressions of things—stiff shoulders, stiffer posture, a furrowed brow—all signs of distress, of discomfort.

A pulse of guilt made Ruby want to curl in on herself. She thought that the life she was living now would be much easier if she could just lay down in a ball and not move for an eternity. (Though, with as little as she knew about herself, she had enough to know that she would never be able to do it—no matter how tempting it might be from time to time.)

“You don’t have to.” She said, very quietly. “I think I’ll be alright by myself if it’s really an inconvenience.”

“There is quite literally nothing else for me to do.” Snow stated, almost emotionlessly—like she was some sort of cold, unfeeling robot. “Whatever I think doesn't mean anything in your endeavor, nor does my general comfort.”

“No!” Ruby protested, surprising herself with how quick she was to speak. “No, you _can’t_ —that isn’t fair, you didn’t ask for an amnesiac to be dropped on your doorstep, like _literally_ dropped, so you shouldn’t have to—”

“Yes.” She interjected, eyes very serious. “But _you_ didn’t ask to _be_ an amnesiac, now did you?”

Ruby stayed silent. Snow said it with such certainty, like there was no possibility in the world that Ruby could have asked for this, but the truth was that Ruby didn’t _know_. She didn’t _know_ if she’d wished for this, didn’t _know_ if she had wanted it. 

“You can’t ask me questions I don’t have the answer to.” She said, and her voice shook. “You—”

“I have not explained the gravity of your situation properly to you.” Snow grimaced. “For that I apologize, I did not anticipate the possibility of you believing yourself at fault... None of the others mentioned such things, I’m out of my depth.”

“Right.” Ruby suddenly felt very hollow, her knees wobbling as she became light headed. “Right, you _know_ things—I forgot.”

(Because _of course_ she did—that seemed to be the one thing she knew how to do... to forget.)

“Come along, there’s a bench just right here, can’t have you keeling over again.” Snow led her deeper into the garden area, her hand on Ruby’s elbow as she carefully sat her down on a stone bench. 

It was cold, the chill biting into her legs and making her curl in on herself a little more. If she was in a better mood, she might have looked around the garden curiously, taking in more of the flowers and the pond just beside her. But she was not in a better mood, she was not in a better mood at all—the fact that Snow had known things slipped her mind, and she was left in paralyzing fear that it would become a trend.

Snow herself watched Ruby cautiously, hesitantly kneeling down in front of her so that Ruby had no choice but to meet her eyes. She looked like she wanted to do something, like she wanted to reach out and soothe her somehow, but Ruby had already learned enough about her to realize that would not happen.

“You don’t have to tell me.” She managed after another long moment of awkward staring. A part of her was convinced that she’d just forget it anyway, and she didn’t want to make this person more uncomfortable than she already was. 

Snow said nothing, but Ruby could tell her mouth had pulled into a deep frown.

“You really don’t, not if it hurts you—everything I do seems to hurt you.” Ruby rambled on, before pausing and remembering Snow’s excitement about the bread and cheese. “Everything except eating, I think.”

“What kind of person were you?” Snow asked, her voice smooth and low. “If you would throw away a chance at knowing for something as simple as a bit of unease?”

Ruby couldn’t answer her, but she got the feeling that Snow hadn’t expected her to.

“You were thrown here by the whims of a curse.” She said finally, the words slow and soft; as though Snow had managed to finally wrestle down the barbs of wire in her voice. “One I do not know the entire nature of—but I know enough to say quite confidently that _you_ _did not ask for this_ , Ruby.”

“Okay.” She let out a shaky breath. There was no way of telling if she was being told the truth, but not believing Snow would hurt her a lot more than believing her would.

“As curses go, it’s quite a selfish one. People are sent here for... for many reasons, perhaps the ones that fade are sent to suffer, the ones that leave sent to inflict it instead.” She shifted, almost looking awkward, but the gentle quality in the sound of her voice remained. “But I know, no matter the person, they always teach me something I feel better off not knowing, or they learn something about themselves that drives them mad.”

“It’s about learning... knowing...” Ruby furrowed her brows together, pressing a palm to her forehead and running her fingers through the hair she could reach. It made the anxiousness she had begun to feel go away, and she wondered if she used to do this often. “Maybe that’s why my memory is gone, to make it so I learn something.”

“Or make it so _I_ learn something.” Snow added. “The person who cast this was... obsessed, for lack of a better word, with secrets of the universe; how fitting it must be to make it so others learning them are harmed.”

Ruby squinted up at her, the fingers in her hair pausing as she tried to make sense of what had just been said. It was getting hard to follow her words. “You talk so fancy sometimes I can’t keep up with you.”

“My apologies.” Snow inclined her head. “I am unused to conversations with... people.”

“You have conversations with things other than people?” She asked, wondering if she had animals somewhere or something. Ruby thought that if she did she’d like to see them.

“...plants.” She grunted out, pressing a fist to her mouth and clearing her throat, as though embarrassed.

“Oh.” Ruby felt delighted. “That helps them grow.”

Snow stared for a long moment, her eyes not leaving Ruby’s. “Yes,” She said severely, “it does.”

“You know, singing helps them too, my mom used to—” Ruby froze. “I have a mom.”

“Who might have liked plants.”

“Who might have liked plants.” Ruby echoed, she didn’t know if she felt hollow or if she felt too full—the words leaving her a mess of confusion. She had said it so confidently, like there was no way it wasn’t true, but Ruby was left with a sour taste in her mouth. “The words felt so natural, like I’ve said them a million times before; but now they’re gone.”

(As were the names of the plants that she had noticed before, though of course she didn't quite realize that. Forgetting was funny like that.)

“They aren’t.” Snow said to her, voice quiet and deadly serious. “Not really.”

"How am I supposed to leave here?” Ruby asked her, and was surprised when the question didn't come out as desperate as she felt.

Snow sighed. "The trend is three—all you need is three core memories, and then you are free to leave; the door will appear, and all you have to do is choose to walk through it."

"Some people decide to stay, don't they?" Ruby asked her softly, already knowing the answer.

A bitter laugh escaped the person in front of her, and she turned her eyes away from Ruby's. "Nobody fades before the door comes, Ruby—it's only afterward, and the people that choose to stay, well..." She took a deep breath, her shoulders slumping a little. "They don't like what the see, in themselves or in their lives, and decide that the risk is not worth it and I—"

She couldn't continue, cutting herself off.

"You have to watch." Ruby said, feeling sickened by the thought of it. "You have to _watch_ , that's... that's—"

"—it is my lot in this life, nothing else." Snow continued over her, turning further away. "I am going back to the house, you are free to do as you like—follow or stay, it does not matter." Then she sped off, not looking behind her to see what Ruby would do.

"Aw, geez." Ruby mumbled, scrambling to her feet and going after her—not sparing a second glance to the flowers.

* * *

Life otherwise continued—or, well maybe it _started_ , Ruby really couldn’t really say for sure. 

But it was... calm. Sort of.

The first thing she did when Snow showed her to the room she'd be using was look in the mirror. Seeing the person in the reflection was like looking into the eyes of a stranger—she did not recognize herself. She didn't know this person, this person with the uneven dimples and silver eyes—the person whose smile was crooked and horrid looking. 

Ruby lifted a hand, pressing her fingers into the skin of her cheek and pushing and pulling her face into awkward angles. Her hands were paler than her face were, but nonetheless tanned—but there was an unmistakable sickly undertone to it all, as though she had suddenly spent a great deal of time inside. She grimaced, pulling her mouth open with her fingers and looking at her teeth—some of them were a little crooked, and when she stuck out her tongue she noted the look on the reflection's face.

Her face.

She screwed up her expression, making odd faces and trying to match the features she saw to the ones she felt. Her nose was long, a small bump near the stop of the bridge, her eyes almond shaped—the lashes sticking up at odd angles and touching her cheeks when she closed her eyes. Ruby turned her head, looking at her jaw, and blinked at the trail of moles that led from the base of her throat to her chin.

She counted seven in total, getting really close to the mirror and fogging up the glass. 

"Ugh." She grumbled, rubbing the steam away. Her brows were furrowed in her reflection. "Oh god my _hair."_

Ruby tugged at the first strands she saw, staring with a bewildered look on her face. It was an absolute mess, sticking up in odd directions messily and chaotically, like some sort of whirlwind had made its home on her head. Honestly, it was no wonder Snow had been trying to fix it when she first woke up—and the _color,_ a red so deep that she almost mistook it for black.

"I hate this." She said aloud. 

Ruby did indeed hate this—but not because her appearance was intolerable.

This person staring back at her in the mirror, the one who was furrowing her brows as she refused to look away—she didn't understand how it could be _her._ She didn't remember having this face, she didn't remember walking around with her horribly uneven smile or the bouncy hair, didn't remember the creases of her face or the shape of her eyes.

She just.

She just didn't remember.

And it sinks in, one more time, just how far this went—the way that she had been ripped away from anything she might call her own, that she had been left with small pieces of a person who once upon a time had been " _Ruby_."

 _She_ wasn't Ruby, not really, not in any of the ways that it mattered. 

She grimaced again, and moved to cover up the mirror. She'd had enough looking at herself for a lifetime.

The first night was awful, plagued with nightmares that Ruby couldn’t remember in the morning—the only thing lingering in her mind the press and pull of her lungs, almost like they had been in the process of being sucked out by a tube. On the bright side, she found a basket full of clothes in the room that she’d been given—among them a deep red hoodie that she instantly fell in love with.

She gripped it tightly to her chest, holding it close and burying her face into it. Her knuckles paled with how tightly she gripped it, hands shaking as something rough clamped on her throat.

This must be the hoodie that she had arrived in, the one that the stranger had said she cleaned.

Ruby didn’t even know what she had been missing with its absence, a piece of her slotting into place the second her hands brushed against the fabric. That in itself was an awful feeling; the realization that if her host had not bothered to try and save it for her a part of her would be gone and she’d never know it.

Her knees ached, and with a start she realized she’d fallen onto them harshly. 

At least she had one more thing. One more thing that had been _hers_ —something that reassured her that she had existed sometime before this mess.

Running a shaky hand through her hair, Ruby dragged herself in front of the basket, peeking into it without letting herself drop her sweater. The clothes were dull and practical, slacks and button-up shirts she wasn’t entirely sure would fit her properly. She reached in, finding a note written in rough parchment, and blinked at it deliriously.

_These will do until I find proper clothes for you—they take time to appear._

“Cool.” She mumbled. “Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

The shirt was a little tight, and the pants were too short (Ruby realized she was probably taller than her, thought _‘oh that’s cool’_ and then promptly forgot about it.) 

Snow had been right in that it took a couple days for proper clothes to appear; one day they’d literally just popped into her closet with no warning. 

Ruby was very relieved, Snow’s spare clothing had been really stiff and made her feel awkward and uncomfortable. She was much happier with the soft shirts and leggings she had now—plus she actually had something to put on her feet now, a sturdy pair of boots that she had taken to almost immediately. (All the shoes that Snow had offered had been way too small, so Ruby had been running around barefoot for at least a week.)

It was much easier to roam the property now, though that along with everything came with pros and cons. A plus—there was more she could do now that she wasn't itching desperately to rip off her own clothes. A not so plus—one of Snow's defining personality traits seemed to be that she was a massive grump.

It was clear she was unused to company—if the occasional dark glares and annoyed hisses meant anything at least. 

(Really, honestly, she actually _hissed._ When she had stopped sulking about being hissed at, Ruby had taken a stick and drawn what she thought Snow would look like as a snake in the dirt. Snow had not been amused.)

The days soon fell into a routine, wake up and eat the (kind of bland) food that had been happily shoved into her face, convince Snow that she could help around the house, and explore the plot of land after she had been sternly rebuked or grudgingly accepted.

Snow had been right about the edge, clouds and sky as far as the eye could see. It wasn’t far away from the main house, the only thing that could be considered an obstacle was the mass of pine trees that extended out from just beyond the garden. The end of the land was not difficult to find, and Ruby found the very tip was devoid of trees. Like a chunk of earth and carved a small hole into the land, making it devoid of anything but grass and dark soil.

She could only stare at first, too shocked to do much of anything. Eventually she found it in herself to take a deep breath, puffing up her cheeks and blowing air out quickly.

“Oh, wow.” She muttered. “Yeah, that’s, uh... that’s a cliff. That’s... a cliff.”

It felt weird to even say it.

When she finally mustered up the courage to stand near the edge, peering over it she found only more of the same. Ruby wondered if the land was just an island floating in the sky, hovering peacefully as the owner and occasional guests slowly lost their minds.

It wasn’t as pretty a picture she thought it was.

When she walked back to the house, Snow had taken one good look at her face and led her to the garden—tugging her sleeve once and then letting go and putting space between them.

Ruby didn’t bother feeling hurt, over the days she’d realized that Snow was just like that—brief in anything that could be considered affection. It wasn’t that Ruby thought Snow _wanted_ to show her affection, she more got the idea of Snow not wanting to give Ruby the wrong idea—like she wanted to make sure she understood that she would not be a reliable well of comfort.

Ruby thought she was being way too weird about it, but it wasn’t like she had the room to talk, so she followed dutifully. 

Her eyes did not trail her leader, instead drifting along the petals of flowers and trees, slipping easily from the softness of leaves and colors to the watery silverness of the pond. It was water, but it also was not—one of the things Ruby found in this place that screamed ‘ _other’_ besides the eyes of her most mysterious friend.

(In the future, she would find it funny that she was so in love with it.)

“What are we doing here?” Ruby asked quietly, feeling like if she were to talk normally she’d somehow shatter the beautiful image that was the garden. She’d been in here before, but it seemed like she’d never quite get the layout correct—it seemed to constantly shift to the whims of some unknown thing.

 _Maybe the flowers moved whenever they wanted to_ , Ruby thought to herself, _maybe they liked changing things up and exploring._

“I want to tend to the garden; you will help me.” Snow stated shortly, sounding a bit impatient. 

Ruby grimaced, shifting uncomfortably and trying not to look too obviously out of her depth. “I don’t know if I know much about gardening.”

“Then I will teach you.” Snow said simply, crossing her arms over her chest. “Though somehow I doubt you’ll need my help.”

Ruby didn’t know how to respond to that, so she changed the subject a little bit. “That’s a very pretty rose bush.” She said, pointing to her side and smiling. “Roses are beautiful.”

“Aren’t they?” Snow said, obviously noticing Ruby’s attempt to divert her attention and mercifully going along with it. “The roses are some of my favorites, right behind my poppies, of course.”

“Oh right!” Ruby blinked, looking around with wide, hopeful eyes. “I saw them the last time—er... where did they go?”

“Just there.” She said, pointing at an area just behind her. Sure enough, they were curled up comfortably up next to a tree, a good distance away from the area she’d seen them last. “They like to move more than the others; temperamental little things.”

Her voice was fonder than Ruby had ever heard, and suddenly she felt like whatever she might know about flowers wouldn’t apply here.

Ruby watched the poppies dance in the wind, the longer she stared the heavier her chest felt. Finally, she looked away—trying to blink away the dark spots in her eyes. “Do you like the color red?”

“I was fond of it, yes.” Snow answered easily enough, and then pointed to another area nearby. “Though I have golden and orange poppies too—there, look.”

“They look like sunlight.” Ruby mumbled quietly, moving toward them and crouching down to brush her fingers against the petals. They were soft, and it took all willpower not to yell out in alarm when they wrapped around her fingers. “It’s like they’re hugging me!”

Ruby sort of wanted to hug them back somehow, but stuck to gently running her fingers across the petals again.

“Yes.” Snow said, and Ruby didn’t have to look up to know that she was smiling.

She felt herself flush, coughing into her fist and rising to her feet. Very suddenly, she felt unbalanced, like she might actually trip over her own feet and face plant into the flowers she’d just been admiring. Just as Ruby had reassured herself that she wouldn’t be falling over anytime soon, her eyes locked on another bush of flowers. Once again pure delight surged up inside of her as she rushed over, and there was no way to hide the broad grin that appeared on her face. “Oh! These ones, these are—”

“ _Hydrangea_.” They said at the same time.

“Yeah!” Ruby enthused over the flowers, flashing a broad grin up at her, before seeing another and raising her brows in surprise. “Lilac, too—how do you get all of them to grow here?”

“Magic, I suppose.” Snow mumbled, as though it should be obvious. “The laws of nature are more... _suggestions_ , here.”

“That’s, uh—neat.” She noted as she rubbed thoughtfully at her chin, the more things she learned about this place the more confused she got.

(Though if Ruby was really being honest with herself, all that sort of added to its charm.)

She sighed, bowing her head a little bit and closing her eyes tightly. It felt sort of weird to like being in the place that stripped her of her own memories. “I love flowers—did you know? I just realized it, but I should’ve known from the moment I woke up; you had forget-me-nots in a vase.”

“I did.”

Ruby smiled, rising to her feet. “You really have all sorts of plants here. It’s no wonder you talk to them so much.”

“Yes.” She hesitated. “The garden is big, and sometimes I cannot talk to them individually so I... well, they seem to like it best when I sing.”

“You have a nice voice.” Ruby noted thoughtfully. “I bet it only gets better when you sing.”

“Right, well.” Snow sounded embarrassed. “Time to work now.”

Ruby agreed easily, she didn’t want to be sent away now that she had a chance to spend time doing things in the garden.

It was nice. 

Gardening—it was nice.

She found that she enjoyed it much more than she enjoyed just looking at the flowers. 

Snow didn’t even really have to teach her to do much, the second that she handed Ruby a small shovel _(“It’s a trowel, Ruby. Please try and call it by its proper name.”)_ and a tiny clay pot, she knew exactly what she’d be doing.

“Which flowers did you want to put in here?” She asked Snow curiously, looking up at her and waiting patiently.

Nothing was said for a moment, Snow’s brow furrowed. “Tulips... they should go well with the forget-me-nots—when you’re done with that, you take one of your choosing back to your room.”

“Really? Thanks.” Ruby grinned at her. “You don’t mind if I take some roses, do you?”

“I just told you that you could choose.” Snow sniffed. “They’re, funnily enough, by the forget-me-nots right now.” She pointed across to a gazebo, where a rose bush sat happily enough, the thorns of them hidden by their much smaller neighbors.

Ruby smiled. “I’ll probably need different roses, those are kinda big—and this pot’s real small; I don’t want them to outgrow it.”

Snow made a noncommittal noise, then jerking her chin toward a much smaller bush of roses. “Those should do then.”

Ruby blinked. “Did those just... show up?”

“Well.” Snow began like it was obvious, “They heard you, didn’t they?”

“Uh.” She thought it was best just to accept it and then get back to work. Trying to work out the logic of this place wouldn't much help her at that moment, much better to puzzle over everything when she didn't have a chance to do something. “Right." She nodded seriously, as though there was nothing more natural in the world. "Of course.”

Snow, very clearly noticing Ruby's bluff, rolled her eyes and turned back to the flowers—but before she could turn away entirely, Ruby saw a smile curve at the edge of her lips.

It did not occur to her until an hour after she left the garden, just what exactly she had done.

The realization sat on her chest, and Ruby could do nothing but sit and stare at the rose she had brought into her room. She had taken Snow’s little shovel (“It’s a _trowel_ , Ruby—”) and had easily transferred flowers to pots like it had been nothing, like she’d done it a million times before. 

(And maybe she _had_ done it a million times before, maybe her love of roses wasn’t just _there_ for no reason and she had held them close to her long before those moments in the garden.)

The flower she picked—her rose—sat in her new clay pot at her desk, content to dance as though it was in the wind, though Ruby felt no breeze in her room. She couldn’t stop herself from staring at it, her eyes wide as something like tears began to burn in her eyes.

“Oh, God.” Ruby gurgled, pressing a hand to her chest and shuddering. “Oh, _God._ ”

There was nothing quite like what she was feeling at that moment, an enormous pressure clamping down on her ribs and throat—making her choke and sputter. She unsteadily rose to her feet, trying not to look at the pretty little flowerpot standing on her desk waving happily at her, and hurried out of the room to go find Snow.

It did not take very long to find her, seated at a desk in the living room, absentmindedly scribbling something into a pale blue journal.

“Flowers.” Ruby blurted out, making Snow go stiff for a moment. “I... I know how to _do_ these things—the flowers, I can... I can take care of them, move them.”

A beat passed, silence pervading the room until Snow sighed—closing her journal and rubbing her thumb between her thumb and forefinger. “You do.” She agreed with her quietly, turning around to face Ruby and offering her a small, tentative smile. “I think you’re much better with them than I ever was.”

“This is _mine_.” A revelation. “I have... I can _do_ things, and I might never know everything I’m capable of—might not know a single thing about myself after this.”

How she mourned that; the idea that this is all she had, her name and her hoodie and her flowers. And, of course, Snow. She had her, at least, a person who seemed to care about her—no matter how blatantly awkward she was about it. But there was no denying that what she had in terms of _herself_ was very little, and no amount of kindness from the only other person in this place would ever change that entire _parts_ of herself were missing.

“A tragedy.” Snow said, her voice soft—and it’s almost as though she had read Ruby’s mind because _it was_ —because there was no other way to describe what had happened to Ruby, because it was just a great, stinking _tragedy._ “I think you were skilled in a great amount of things.”

“Is this how it is for me?” Ruby asked her, wrapping her arms tightly over her chest and gripping at her biceps and looking down at her feet. She felt far too frail, all of a sudden, like she with one push she’d fall over and shatter to pieces. “Will I do things and think things because of who I was, and just... never know why?”

Snow looked very pained, all of a sudden. “...as long as you are here, it will be.”

The way she had said it! Like Ruby staying there was the worst thing that could happen in the world. As though each moment Ruby was forced to stay there, breathing and living and mourning the person she had once been, the person that she would never know. As though each moment spent near caused Snow the worst kind of suffering imaginable.

“Do you want me to leave?” Ruby asked, and was unashamed of the way her voice wobbled.

“I just want you to be happy.” Snow refuted simply, turning her face away—as though she was unable to bear looking at her. She gripped her journal tight, bowing her head to the wall. “Some... some fade before they choose to walk through the door, and others leave as soon as they can.”

Another silence descended on the both of them, heavier than the last.

“Will I fade?” Ruby asked finally, finding the strength to straighten her shoulders and look at her companion head on.

“Not for a long while.” Snow whispered, and finally met Ruby’s eyes. “You have time.”

Ruby couldn't tell if she hoped her words were true.

* * *

She tried forcing herself to remember sometimes.

It never went very well, her head always reduced to a series of harsh aches, making Ruby feel like someone had taken a hammer to the inside of her brain—mashing and mashing until all that was left was a weird runny stew. It never failed to leave her exhausted, and even though every time she tried she made sure she was alone Snow always seemed to stumble upon her with an unreadable expression on her face.

(Though maybe that was just because Ruby couldn’t _remember_ the expression on her face. Semantics)

Ruby didn’t know _how_ exactly she kept finding her, but she didn’t complain. The ordeal she went through was difficult on her own, so she was thankful for the company. It got to the point where she would make sure that she was aware enough to flash a smile at the disproving Snow, grinning through the blood that made its home in her mouth and nose. 

Her friend (because Snow was literally the only person she knew so why _not_ be friends?) always sighed down at her, pulling a handkerchief out of her pocket and wiping away at her face. Snow would always grumble a little bit, but not once did she leave Ruby there alone. She somehow managed to lift Ruby into her arms, taking her to the nearest bed or sofa, or on the days where she couldn’t bear to touch her—she would prop Ruby’s head up with a pillow and lay beside her, careful to make sure there was at least five inches between them.

Ruby wondered if she’d done this with all her guests, and didn’t know which would be better—if Ruby was special somehow or if Snow was just that reluctantly nice to everyone.

Eventually, Ruby knew that she could not continue on like she had. The only things she’d even managed to remember _a little bit_ was the smell of something absurdly clean, sharp and burning in her nose—and Ruby felt that was probably just because it must have annoyed her so much. She decided, after a lot of tired and moderately delirious thinking, that remembering could come a different way—and that there was no use needlessly suffering.

When she told Snow this, the other woman tilted her head curiously.

“I shan’t judge.” She had said, “But I think if it were me I would continue.”

To which Ruby had retorted, “With respect, but I think that you would have done it just to punish yourself.”

It wasn’t as though Ruby was completely oblivious to the way that her friend felt, but she was sure that she wouldn’t mind forgetting everything she’d learned about that aspect of her if it meant never seeing that look on Snow’s face ever again. Snow didn’t speak for her for two days after that, only reluctantly accepting Ruby’s apology after an endless amount of groveling.

“It was mean.” Ruby mumbled. “It was super mean of me, and you didn’t deserve to hear it just because I was frustrated—I’m sorry, and I swear that I’ll never do it ever again.”

“Just.” Snow had not looked at her in ages, avoiding meeting her gaze like the plague. “Just drop it, Ruby—it’s fine, as long... as long as you drop it’s fine.”

Ruby knew that it would not be the end of it, the dread pooling into her stomach alongside guilt, and she wasn’t wrong. Though Snow insisted that she drop it, it wouldn’t be the right thing to do, especially considering the way that things had seemed to shift in the relationship between them. 

So Ruby, determined and more than a little desperate, took to leaving little gifts for her. Sometimes they took the forms of notes—sort of awful doodles and tiny messages left scattered across areas of the property she knew that Snow would frequent. Other times, Ruby took to leaving physical gifts—flowers and smooth rocks she found on her walks; doing her best to bake sweets and sometimes succeeding.

There were recipes in the kitchen that looked like they hadn’t been touched in ages, only a couple were clean of dust and grime, Ruby recognized them as the fairly simple meals that Snow had seemed to delight in shoving in her face. Finding them had been like striking gold, she had never actually _seen_ her friend eat anything before, but food would definitely go a long way.

(Especially considering the fact that Ruby was running out of gifts to give, there were only so many flowers and rocks in the world, and she had no idea if Snow actually liked any of the notes that Ruby had written up. The only proof she had that she was getting them seeing them missing from the spots they’d been left.)

Her first memory returns to her in the kitchen.

It comes to her in the smell of melting chocolate, the feel of dough between her fingers. She sets small blobs of it all across the tray, and with each movement another moment of her past makes itself known to her. 

_She is in the kitchen. She is in the kitchen, and Mom is beautiful, her face is clear—her hands strong and tan and unwrinkled. She smiles at Ruby and her eyes still sparkle in youth, in health. Silver. Silver like her own. She reaches out and presses a bit of flour to Ruby’s nose—they both erupt into giggles. Ruby feels especially small, but she doesn’t think it is a bad thing at that moment, because Mom is big, and strong—and she doesn’t mind being small if it means she can still see her like that._

_She is in the kitchen. She is in the kitchen, and Mom has fallen over. Mom is not getting back up. Mom’s eyes (silversilversilver) are closed, her mouth is parted open, and Ruby’s shouts make two adults rush in—both are dark haired and red eyed, and they see Ruby desperately trying to shake her mom awake._

_She is in the kitchen. She is in the kitchen and someone is holding her hand—the two of them are looking down at burned cookies. It is the first time they try to make them without her, Mom, and it would have turned out fine if Ruby hadn’t collapsed to her knees in sudden grief, if Yang dropped beside her and held her close._

_If Ruby had stayed standing, if Ruby had been stronger, than none of this would have happened._

_The cookies wouldn’t have burned._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ha ha ha.
> 
> ha. :D
> 
> anyway, this feels way too personal actually


End file.
